


Never Too Late

by cauldron__cakes



Category: Deanna Troi - Fandom, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Anger, Coma, Death, Depression, Fluff, Illnesses, Major Character Injury, Major Illness, Sexual Tension, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cauldron__cakes/pseuds/cauldron__cakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may be the end for Deanna Troi, but it will never be too late for them. William lost her once, and he's not about to do it again. When the two of them find themselves facing her probable death, the horror of the time pulls them together like nothing ever could have before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've written this over quite a long span of time, so the style changes slightly, and I also believe it improves as things continue. Always feel free to critique and give suggestions at any time. I appreciate anything you have to offer

Deanna:

I’d been on the planet’s surface for seven and a half hours. The Quauxe are ridiculously particular about parliamentary procedure, especially regarding inter-planet affairs. The captain had asked me to attend as a precautionary step; I’d be able to spot tension before anyone else. It had all taken place in this tiny broom shed of a room located in the only building on the planet that was supplied with oxygen. The Quauxe don’t need oxygen to survive, so we were actually lucky they didn’t just make us bring oxygen masks for ourselves. All in all, they’re a kind race, they just tend to be a bit on the strict side when in comes to their government.   
Anyway, all this had been going on for almost eight hours, and I could see even Data starting to lose interest. And, mind you, I’d worked with Data for almost 9 years, and I’d never seen him lose interest in anything. He’d started listening while looking above the speaker’s head. That was always a sign he wasn’t making any effort to appear human. Otherwise he wouldn’t take his eyes off them.   
The rest of the team’s signal’s were a bit less subtle. Picard had been shaking his foot for the past hour, and every once in a while he twisted his shoulders around, or repositioned his notes in front of him. And Will was tapping his foot to some piece of music I couldn’t make out. Of course, this was all just intuition. Mentally, their sheer boredom was much louder. And I mean that literally. It was like they were screaming “LET ME OUT!”. If I wasn’t so bored myself, it would’ve been almost funny. Sadly, that was not the case. My eyelids were beginning to feel like they were being held down with paper weights.   
Just as I began to think I could take it no longer, the meeting came to an end. The leader of the Quauxe stood, cleared his throat, and bowed deeply to us. We returned the bow solemnly and turned away, allowing them to leave unnoticed, as was the custom in the Quauxe culture. There was no speaking upon departure. Just a bow and the courtesy of no one watching the other’s back turn. It was considered impolite to even witness someone at so vulnerable an angle. So, it was not until we heard the door close behind the group of dignitaries that we signaled the Enterprise to beam us back aboard.  
It was, as always, a safe travel back. At that point, it was 2:00AM Earth time, so we were all exhausted, save Data, who of course did not require rest. We went our separate ways, all much too tired or too caught up in our own thoughts to even manage much more than a simple “g’night”. Looking back, I feel like that night should have been so much more exciting. I feel like it should have been important somehow; like history should have taken place, or human principle challenged. But it wasn’t special, it wasn’t fantastic. It was a long, somewhat boring day. We were tired, and that was it. It wasn’t until three hours later, when I woke up to my brain splitting in two, that anything interesting really happened. I guess I would have been okay with the boring. 

 

Beverly:  
At about 4:30 in the morning, Earth time, I was still at my desk, finishing off some paperwork from a seminar I’d just returned from. It was fascinating, really, but most of the major people from Starfleet weren’t abel to attend, and I was the one who ended up with the tedious job of writing up the report. I was almost finished, when Will Riker showed up, his arm bent nearly completely backwards.   
“Oh, Will, what happened now?” I asked, slightly exasperated. Will had come in here with some kind of broken bone at least once every couple weeks as long as I’d known him. Careful is not a word to describe the Enterprise’s first officer.   
“It’s nothing, really,” he was breathing roughly, wincing with each step. Obviously, it was something. “I was just doing a little rock climbing, nothing too intense,” he looked really pained at this point. “So if you could just fix me up, that would be gre- OH MY GOD THIS HURTS LIKE HELL.”  
“That’s what I thought. Now, let me see,” I gently lifted his arm, and wrapped it in my ortho-blanket. It speeds up the healing process by a factor of about 81,000 so that a bone that would naturally heal in 8 weeks heals in about a minute. Within five minutes, Will was up again, smiling sheepishly at his shoes.   
“Thanks, Beverly, I appreciate it.”  
“No problem, Will, just be careful. Have someone spotting you when you climb, that way I can come to you instead of this. You could have injured it worse, you know.”   
“Yes, yes, I know. I just wanted to get a good climb in tonight, and it’s John-Luke that usually spots me. We were meeting with the Quauxe all day, though, so he just went off to bed. I’ll be more careful in the future.”  
“I’m sure you wi-“ before I could finish, my communicator beeped, and a voice rose up from my collar.   
“Doctor Crusher, we have a patient in the corridor. I think she’s having seizure. But, it’s not like any kind of seizure I’ve seen before. We need you down here, I don’t know if it’s safe to move her,”  
“Who do you have?” I asked, already moving towards the door.   
“It’s…Deanna. Deanna Troi.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will:  
I didn’t register what was going on until Beverly turned to stare at me, a look of pure horror etched upon her face. And when it did hit me, it felt like I’d been run over by a truck.  
“Did they say Deanna?” I whispered, my voice suddenly tight and hoarse. Beverly didn’t move, stunned into silence. But I was not in the mood to wait. “DID THEY JUST SAY DEANNA!?” I was louder now, almost angry, because this could not be possible. Deanna was fine. I knew she was fine. I’d seen her, just hours before, heading to bed. How could she go from that to a seizure in three hours?  
I didn’t have time to decide; I was sprinting down the hall and into the turbo lift, Beverly at my side. I was sprinting without thinking, finding her without knowing where she lay. I had no idea where Deanna had fallen, but before I knew it, I was standing there, in front of her shaking body, staring down into her seemingly unseeing eyes. I dropped to my knees.  
“Deanna, I’m here. I’m here. Just hold on. It’ll be alright,” I held her now. The seizure had stopped, but her breaths came too fast, too erratically. And she was shaking like it was below zero in the hall and she was in a bikini. I could barely keep ahold of her. But despite all that, her eyes stayed locked on mine.  
I held her for what felt like ages, waiting for Beverly to give the okay to move her. By the time Deanna had stopped shaking, twenty minutes had gone by. She’d been treated enough for her body to calm down, but it was impossible to figure out what the underlying problem was without the equipment back in Sick Bay.  
“W-Will?” Deanna coughed out, speaking for the first time. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was beginning to think I may never hear her speak again.  
“Yes. Hi. Oh my gosh. I lo-“ I stopped myself. This was not the time.  
“Will, what’s happening to me? I don’t,” she stopped, coughing heavily, “I don’t understand…” I didn’t have an answer to that.  
We sat in silence for another few minutes, waiting for what came next. Deanna was beginning to fall asleep when Beverly finally came back.  
“I think it’ll be alright to take her to Sick Bay now. She should be stable enough. Let me just go grab the stretcher. There’s an emergency one in a closet just down the hall.”  
“No,” I mumbled, “I mean, that’s not necessary. I can take her.” I didn't have a good reason to do that. She may have actually been safer on the stretcher. But I honestly couldn’t bare the thought of her being in someone else’s control for that long. I couldn’t trust anyone else. Deanna leaned her head over on to my shoulder, nodding slightly, and before anyone could make any objections, I had her up and halfway down the hall, Beverly following closely at my heels. It wasn’t until the entire entourage had reached Sick Bay and Deanna was safely in a room of her own, hooked up to an IV and oxygen tank, with Beverly beginning tests from blood samples of Deanna’s in the next room, that I spoke again. I was alone with Deanna. And while she hadn’t spoken since the hallway, her eyes had never left mine. I had just opened my mouth to ask her how she felt, when she spoke.  
“You were more afraid than I was,” she breathed, wincing as she turned her head, “You still…are.” She spoke as if each word were important. I suppose they were, as there was such a strong possibility, even then, that they would be here last.  
I didn’t know what to say. I felt foolish for being so afraid. But she didn’t say it like she thought I was being a child. She spoke almost as if she were surprised that I was scared at all.  
“I don’t know what you expected, Deanna. I thought you were going to die. Of course I was scared. I was terrified. I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I was heated, and before I could stop myself, I finished a sentence that had been sitting on the tip of my tongue for years, “but I’m kind of in love with you.”  
I immediately regretted saying it. I hadn’t meant to say it like that. I didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. And I know that she wasn’t in any condition to confront something so big. It was apparent in every aspect of her body that I’d shattered all calm she’d started to have. Her body sank into the bed, and her face turned pale.  
“You, you love me, Will?” she seemed genuinely surprised. I was at a loss. How could she not know? Love is an emotion. Love is an emotion I know for a fact Deanna can sense. So how could she not know how I felt?  
“What? How could you not have noticed, Deanna, you’re empathic. You sense every emotion on this ship at every moment of every day. I don’t understand. I thought…” I trailed off, lost in everything that was happening. She just looked at me.  
“I can close, my mind, Will,” she whispered, closing her eyes, either in pain or frustration, “I can close my mind to those I don’t want to read. I didn’t want to read you, Will. I didn’t want to feel the rejection you gave me all those years ago. I, I just, I didn’t want-“ she stopped, breathing heavily. “I didn’t want you to push me away all over again…” 

Deanna:  
It had been 4:45 AM Earth time when I’d woken up. My head was pounding, and my neck was stiff and swollen. My ears were ringing. My shirt stuck to my back, soaked in sweat. I was trembling so hard I couldn't get my hand to pick my communicator up off the table. It was all I could do to roll out of the bed, and stumble to the door. I fell to my knees, and started crawling slowly down the hall. I’d made it halfway to the turbo lift when I started seeing black spots encroaching onto my vision. The ringing in my eyes became louder. I was moving slower, each pull of my leg becoming harder. I thought back to my room, with my communicator just lying there, on the the table, unreachable.  
There was this moment, just before I blacked out, where everything was clear. I could see properly, and the ringing stopped, and everything around me was calm. I was so stunned, I didn’t take those few seconds to do anything useful. I just leaned back against the wall and thought, “This is a stupid way to die.” And then I blacked out. In retrospect, I guess there was really nothing I could have done during that time, but it still seems like a bit of a waste. To be honest, a lot of this seems like a waste. I spent what very well may have been my last healthy day on an obscure little planet listening to negotiations that will have little to no impact on the Federation as a whole. And now I was about to die.  
I was lying there, mulling all of this over in my mind, still staring unconsciously at Will, when a thought occurred to me. “Will, you were more afraid than I was.” And looking at it critically, he really was. Even when I was in the worst of it, when I couldn’t breathe, I felt more fear radiating from him than anything within myself. Why would he be that afraid?  
“I don’t know what you expected, Deanna. I thought you were going to die. Of course I was scared. I was terrified. I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he was getting angry, though I couldn’t have told you why. There was a pause, like he was trying to keep himself from finishing, but I guess he didn’t succeed because, “but I’m kind of in love with you,” tumbled out of his mouth.  
“You, you love me, Will?” was all I could get out. And then the memories flooded back, all at once.  
Him walking onto the bridge of the Enterprise on our first day.  
The sheepish way he asked me to the poker game that same night.  
His choosing me to work with for crew evaluations.  
The way he sat always just a little further away from me than necessary.  
His face flushing when I laughed at a joke.  
Him always playing my favorite music when we have senior crew dinners.  
The long talks about my mother, my father, anything.  
Breakfast every Tuesday, just because.  
Growing his beard back at an offhand comment of mine.  
How could I not have noticed? How could I have been so blind as to believe that all of that was him proving he didn’t want to be romantically involved with me; that he was trying to be friendly but distant? That it was only me that felt a love we’d once shared? And now it was too late. How could I explain that to him, on top of everything else? That I’d been shielding his emotions from my mind for the past nine years? That I was so afraid of rejection I never looked?  
But he had to know. He had to at least understand why. I breathed as deeply as I could manage, and sighed, ready at last to admit it, when he exploded.  
“What? How could you not have noticed, Deanna, you’re empathic. You sense every emotion on this ship at every moment of every day. I don’t understand. I thought…”  
I wanted to stay calm and explain where he’d gone wrong, but something was happening. I could feel my heart racing, and I was getting faint again. I didn’t have time to take a deep breath and count to ten, so I rushed into an answer, gasping for air.  
“I can close, my mind, Will,” I whispered, closing my eyes, trying to focus on the words, “I can close my mind to those I don’t want to read. I didn’t want to read you, Will. I didn’t want to feel the rejection you gave me all those years ago. I, I just, I didn’t want-“ I stopped, gasping, trying to hold on, but to what I didn’t know. “I didn’t want you to push me away all over again…” and the darkness came, pulling me under. 

Picard:  
Beverly never wakes me up in the middle of the night. And when I say never, I really do mean never. We could crash into one of Jupiter’s moons and she would probably wait to tell me until I walked into her quarters for coffee the next morning. For some reason, she has this quirk about her: she hates disrupting people’s sleep. I think it’s the doctor in her, but Deanna says it probably has some kind of root in her childhood. I don’t tend to understand things like that, so I’ve more or less ignored it. So, needless to say, when I awoke at five o’clock in the morning (Earth time) to the sound of Beverly Crusher’s voice, I assumed I was dreaming. That is, until she got louder.  
“Jean-Luc Picard if you don’t get out of bed right now and drag your butt down to Sick Bay within two minutes I will go up there and get you myself!” Needless to say, that got me moving.  
When I got down to Sick Bay, I immediately wished I’d stayed in bed. I would have taken on all the angry Beverlys in the world if it meant I didn’t have to see this. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my skin prickle. How could this have happened so quickly?  
Deanna was lying on the cot, unconscious. She had tubes coming out of every part of her body. Tubes for eating, and breathing, and pumping blood, and watching her brain, and her heart. And the worst part was Will, sitting next to her. He held her hand gently in his own, rubbing circles on her palm with his thumb, like a father soothing his child, the tears running down his face shamelessly. All I could feel was anger.  
“What the hell happened, Beverly?” I shouted, “I saw her three hours ago! How could she have gone from healthy to this in three hours?” Despite the fact that I was screaming at her, Beverly stayed remarkably calm. "Jean-Luc, please. I’m trying to figure this out. Right now I don’t know much more than you do. Give me some time,” she took a deep breath, and continued, “I’ve asked you down here not as a captain, but as a friend. I need you to do crowd control for me. A lot of people are going to be worried, but we cannot have thirty people in Sick Bay at once all trying to get a glimpse at Deanna. Do whatever you need to, but keep people away.” She turned to face me completely, her lips in a tight line, holding in her own pain.  
“Okay, Bev, okay,” I whispered, placing my hand on her shoulder. “I’ll watch out for the crew. You just focus on Deanna for us, alright? You’ve got this. Just, notify me when you figure it out.” I smiled as brightly as possible and marched away, trying to give off the level of confidence I couldn’t bring myself to feel.


	3. Chapter 3

Will:   
It took Beverly a total of three and a half days to discover the source of Deanna’s problem. And the answer was almost as puzzling as the original collapse.   
“Oh my god,” Beverly murmured, staring at the screen, her face suddenly pale. My heart sank.   
“What,” I croaked out, my voice suddenly hoarse.   
“The cells in her body, it’s like their, changing. Mutating. I don’t know what it means, but whatever it is, it’s not natural. Somebody…did this on purpose. Oh my god. I know what this is.” she was as white as paper.  
“Someone, poisoned me?” Deanna breathed. She coughed hard, and sank into the bed a little.  
“The cells in your body are mutating, changing from one stage to the next, and then sort of swimming around and causing havoc. Of course, the real term for it is Genetic Cellular Remolecularization Mutation (GCRM), but that’s not the point. The point is, GCRM is only a theory. It’s never been proven, and as far as I know, there isn’t a known-“ Beverly stopped suddenly, and shook her head, as if coming out of some kind of trance. “Sorry, sorry, I’m getting a bit…” she trailed off, shaking her head again. Something was wrong, I could tell. And whatever it was, Beverly was trying to keep it from Deanna. “I’m going to figure something out, Deanna. I promise. It’ll be alright,” she whispered, and turned to me. Deanna was falling asleep again. She hadn’t been totally conscious for the last three days, never talking to me, never noticing my presence at all. I was beginning to think she would die without ever answering my plea.   
Beverly brought me out of my daze, placing her hand on the small of my back, and leading me into her office quietly, choosing not to disturb Deanna.   
“Look, Bev, before you start stuttering over your sugar coated version of whatever the hell is wrong with Deanna, don’t. Don’t make it sound small or insignificant or any of that. Tell me what’s wrong, because I know whatever you choked out in front of her is only the tip of the iceberg. I’ve seen you slice open peoples’ chest before without flinching, and you blanched at whatever you saw out there.  
Beverly looked taken aback at my sudden ferocity, but to be honest, I was terrified, and I felt like if I had to wait much longer for an answer I might just pass out myself.   
“Will, it’s not that there was something else there. It’s just, I know how to treat her.”  
“Why is that bad? You could cure her! You could, you could-“ I stopped, the look on Beverly’s face ending any happiness I’d just felt.  
“In the 20th through the 21st century, people treated a disease, similar to GCRM, called cancer, with a treatment called chemotherapy. Basically it’s like having germs on you hands that you can’t wash off, so you pour acid on them instead and just hope your skin grows back. It’s painful, and doesn’t always work. But it’s the only way she has a chance. The only way she has even a sliver of a chance.  
I glanced back over at Deanna, and my heart sank another foot. I was right in my fear. She was going to go through hell, and be ripped to shreds by this “treatment” and then she still might die, and I was going to live with nine years worth of guilt in my chest for the rest of my life. I was so frustrated. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to handle this. I could hardly stand it. Wait, no, I actually couldn’t stand. All of the sudden, the room started spinning, and I felt the blood rush out of my head. Black spots popped up in my eyes, and I pitched forward, my knees buckling under me. I reached out to grab Beverly’s desk, but fell short, grabbing the lamp instead. I fell to my knees, the iron lamp crashing to the ground next to me. Beverly screamed, bending down next to me.  
I could see her lips moving, but the ringing in my ears was too loud for me to make out what she was saying. After a few seconds, it started fading away, and I could hear her behind the buzzing.   
“Will? Will! Can you hear me? Are you okay?” she seemed panicked, and she kept looking up, like she was trying to get to someone else. I was confused at first, and then it hit me. Deanna. Something was wrong with Deanna.  
“Go. No, don’t bother with me. I’m fine. I just got a bit dizzy there for a moment. Go. Now.” She gave me a worried look, and rushed out of the room. I shook my head.  
I needed to get to Deanna. Immediately. But I was so dizzy, I thought I might puke.   
“No, get up. You don’t have time for this. Get. Up.” I commanded myself. I grabbed Beverly’s desk, and slowly pulled myself up, until I was standing, leaning heavily on the desk. I was just about to make the jump to the door, when Beverly burst in.   
“Will, you need to-“ she started, but I cut her off.  
“No. I need, to get to her,” I choked out, and let go of the desk. I took all of two steps before nearly blacking out again. My knees buckled once more, and I was falling, when Beverly came up under me. She pulled my arm around her neck, and guided me out and into a room. I sank into the chair, my head swimming.   
“Where did you take me Beverly?! I don’t need you to check me out. I need to see Deanna. What’s wrong? I heard her screaming. I, I need to find her.” I stood up again, my eyes finally starting to clear. The spinning started again, but my eyes stayed clear. I lost my balance, and reached out to steady myself, my hand hitting a bed. I blinked. Beverly had left, and I was alone with Deanna. She was staring at me, smiling slightly: sadly.   
“Deanna? Oh, my god. Are you okay? I, I heard you screaming,”   
“Come…here,” she breathed. I took one look. One long, beautiful look at the woman I loved. And promptly passed out on the floor. 

Deanna:  
“Beverly!” I was screaming. I could hear myself screaming. But it was like it was coming from someone else’s mouth. Because I felt perfectly calm. Perfectly composed. All I knew is that this was the first time I’d been fully awake in days, and the first thing I felt was that Will was in danger. It was like he was completely overwhelmed, drowning in emotion. Fear, guilt, anger, sadness, pain. And I had no idea she was with him. I just knew she should be there.   
“Beverly!” I screamed again and again, until finally my voice gave out and all I could do was try to get my breath back, gasping for air. I was panicking now. I couldn’t breathe at all. There wasn’t enough air. I was going to- And then she came in, pulling an oxygen mask over my face. I took two breaths and pulled it off.   
“There’s…something wrong…with Will,” I gasped, “I c-can feel…it,” I grabbed the mask back, still gasping for air. Beverly looked at me, almost a bit puzzled, and shrugged, rising.   
“I was just with him. I’m going to go back now. Get him on a cot outside. One-“ but I grabbed her coat, stopping her, and took off the mask again.  
“Bring…him…here. I can, I can help,” she looked at me, incredulous. “Please. I can. Please,” I put the mask over my mouth once again, breathing deeply, trying not to black out. Beverly shrugs again, and just moments later, she brings Will into the room.   
He looks horrible. All the blood’s run out of his face, and he’s shaking hard. I tried not to think about what I must look like, and focus on him. But he’s not even looking at me. His eyes are staring out into nothing, like he couldn’t see at all. And then he started babbling to Beverly, who’d already left, and I was so stunned and out of breath I couldn’t speak over him. Eventually, his eyes started to focus, and he looked at me.   
“Deanna? Oh, my god. Are you okay? I heard you screaming,” he started. I didn’t have the energy to explain. I just looked at him, and reached out.  
“Come here,” I managed, before he passed out in front of me.   
“Oh, goodness. I can’t help you from down there.” I looked outside. Beverly wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I breathed a sigh of relief. She would freak if she saw this.   
I sat up in the bed, threw my legs over the side, and slid off onto the floor. My legs supported my body for all of three seconds before I collapsed, but I landed fairly softly, so I leaned over onto him, and whispered into his ear. Will was being taken over by his emotions, something that happens occasionally to humans who don’t get enough sleep during a traumatic time in their lives and then get drastic news. His body just kind of flipped out. But, if caught soon enough, the person of their grief can reverse the problem without medical treatment. Most of the time, those people end up being dead, but in this case I guess we got “lucky”. Anyway, I whispered into his ear, touching the small of his back (a nerve highway)   
“Will. Please, Will wake up. There you go. Come on.” I kept talking, slowly and quietly, and eventually, his eyes fluttered open. I was so relieved, I didn’t even say anything. I just relaxed, laying down into his chest, and cried.   
“Wha-“ he sputtered, lost.  
“I though- I thought you were,” I couldn’t talk I was crying so hard. He shook his head, and wrapped his arms all the way around my body and legs, rocking me slowly.   
“I’m here. I’m okay. You’re gonna be fine. It’s,” he stammered, obviously not himself, “It’s going to be alright.” He slid his arm under my legs, braced the other behind my back, and stood slowly, resting me back on the bed.   
“Don’t leave,” I asked, grabbing his hand. He shook his head.  
“Never again.” And he climbed into the bed, wrapping me in an embrace that calmed me better than any sedative.


	4. Chapter 4

Picard:  
I found them asleep together the following morning, Deanna’s face buried in Will’s chest; his arm wrapped protectively around her. I smiled privately, rolling my eyes. Beverly came in behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder.  
“About time, huh?” she whispered. I nodded slightly, still trying not to laugh.  
“I thought they’d never admit it. What has it been?” she asked.  
“Nine years tomorrow, actually,” I answered.  
Deanna’s eyes popped open, “Hmm, yes, nine years of the empath not realizing her own feelings. Haha,” she said, her voice breaking slightly at feelings. She coughed hard. Beverly swept forward, bringing a wet cloth to her forehead. She looked worried.  
“No, I”m alright. Honestly, I’m…I’m fine.” Deanna croaked. “When can I go back to my quarters?” she asked, trying to sit up. Will opened his eyes as well, sitting up and holding Deanna as he propped pillows around her. She smiled and leaned back into them, placing her hand on his thigh.  
This time I couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently they’d both been awake, listening to us.  
“Snoopy kids, aren’t we?” Beverly asked, already taking Deanna’s vitals.  
Deanna smiled, momentarily closing her eyes. In that instant, Will’s face fell, and he looked at Beverly, exchanging a worried look. Beverly nodded slightly. Deanna opened her eyes suddenly.  
“I felt that. You guys can’t just do those things without me noticing. What,” but she was panicking now, “what…is going…on?” she was gasping.  
Beverly closed her eyes, and turned up the oxygen making it’s way into her nose. Will closed his hand over her shoulder, whispering softly, “deep breaths, deep breaths”  
Slowly, she calmed down, but there was still panic in her eyes.  
“What’s going on? I need to know. I need to know,” she looked straight into Beverly’s eyes, and she shrank away, suddenly nervous around the woman she was caring for.  
“It’s, just that,” she looked at Will, pleading. He nodded.  
“Can you give us a moment?” he asked, trying hard not to let his voice shake. Beverly left, and I was turning to go when he called after me.  
“Jean-Luc", you might want to know about this.”  
“I don’t know, Will,” to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t being kind. I’d already been told what Deanna was going to have to go through. I just didn’t want to see her find out.  
“No, it’s alright,” Deanna murmured, looking at me intently. For some reason she seemed to want me to stay. I shrugged, and sat down in the chair next to the bed.  
Will shifted in the bed, away from Deanna, like he couldn’t touch her when he said something like this. She furrowed her eyebrows, concerned at the sudden change in his demeanor.  
“Okay, so, the good news is that Beverly’s found found a treatment. It’s called chemotherapy, and it has been successful is cases where GCRM has been thought to be present. So that’s good. The bad news is that,” he took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and continued, “is that it’s a long, painful treatment. It’s going to take at least two months total. And, it,” Will stopped, holding back tears. I realized why I was asked to stay.  
“It may not work, Deanna,” I added, standing. I reached my hand out, gripping Will’s shoulder. “They stopped using it in the 22nd century for a reason. It’s success rate…it’s not great,” she closed her eyes tight, clenching her fists in the blanket.  
“When you say it’ll be, be painful…” she trailed off, but the question was clear.  
I took a deep breath, and told her what I knew. That she would be in pain. Where, we couldn't be sure. That she would probably loose her hair. That she would be weak, and she may loose the ability to fight infection. What else, we didn’t know. I left out a few things, for her sake. That she would most likely not be able to keep her balance to walk. That she would get sores in her mouth and throat. That the drugs that would course through her veins would make her dizzy and sick. And I didn’t tell her that the cocktail we were going to put her through was so intense that it might kill her all on its own. That her kidneys may fail, or her lungs, or her heart. That we were taking a chance, and we had no way of knowing what the outcome would be.  
She looked at me without saying a word for what felt like an eternity. When she finally did speak, it wasn’t to me, but to Will.  
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she whispered, looking away. I was taken aback. That was the last thing I’d expected. Tears, panic, anger. Not this. Like she knew the chances of her survival, and she didn’t want to take him down with her. I looked at Will. He knew it too. He reached out, gently turning her to face him.  
“Deanna, it’s too late for that. And even if it wasn’t,” he smiled genuinely at her, “I could never leave you to face this alone. Never.” He wiped away the tear rolling down her cheek, and pulled her towards him, holding her as she cried. “I’m not going to let you die,” he clenched his jaw, his eyes dark, “I won’t.” 

Beverly:  
We started the chemo a couple hours later, 2 o’clock in the afternoon Earth time. Of course, medicine had changed considerably since the 21st century, so the application of the therapy was different. All it took was a small pill, about the size of a lima bean. From there I watched her vitals for an hour or so, making sure everything checked out. And then it was over. The side effects wouldn’t kick in until the drug had been digested. I imagined that would be about eight hours. It took six. 

Will:  
If all went well, Deanna would go home soon. She would do two treatments of chemo every week for at least two months. And from there…we didn’t know. She might not last long enough.  
It was eight o’clock when the side effects kicked in. I was helping Deanna to the bathroom. Despite Beverly’s protests, she’d refused a catheter. She leaned heavily on me as we slowly made our way to the toilet. I eased her down, and turned as she relieved herself. When she was finished, I lifted her gently, and we moved to the sink. She insisted I let her lean against the counter rather than on me, and so I was hovering behind her as she washed her hands. Just as the water turned off, she lost her balance.  
“Oh!” she squeaked, reaching out and missing the counter. I caught her, and was beginning to stand her back up, when her knees buckled. Her grip on me loosened, and she was falling. I had no choice but to lower her to the ground. She sat, leaned up against the wall, with a look of pure confusion on her face.  
“But…I don’t,” she sputtered, going red in the face.  
“Hey, just relax,” I said, trying to calm her down.  
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not dizzy. I don’t know what just happened, Will.” she looked at me crossly. “You don’t believe me. Hmph. Look, I’m fine. Let’s just,” she paused, breathing hard. “Will, I can’t, can’t breathe. I need air.” I jumped up, lifting her off the ground.  
“No, I c-can walk,” she gasped, stubborn as always. When I didn’t listen, she started squirming, and I had no choice but to let her. I couldn’t have kept a grip on her if I’d wanted to. I let her lean on me and we returned the slow journey back to her room. We were halfway there when she crumbled. She lost all grip on my shoulder, and her legs gave out beneath her body. I caught her just before she would have hit her head on the floor.  
“That’s it, Deanna,” I said, lifting her one more. She nodded, resigned.  
“Will?” she asked, her voice shaking, “Will, I c-can’t move my l-legs,” she was really shaking now, “I c-can feel them, but, but they,” she stopped really gasping now. I hurried, placed her on the bed, and pulled the mask over her face. She breathed for a few minutes and nodded off.  
I turned and left the room, into Beverly’s office.  
“Hey, Beverly. I think some of the symptoms started. She,” I cleared my throat, determined to stay calm, “ she lost her balance in the bathroom, and then lost complete control of her muscles in the hall. She couldn’t even hold on to me, let alone bare her own weight.”  
Beverly’s mouth tightened into a line, and she put down her report.  
“Is she in any pain?” she asked, the words clipped and tight.  
“I think so, but she wouldn’t tell me.”  
“Okay. Okay, so it’s honestly just going to get worse from here. And I want her to be comfortable. So I’m going to let her move back into her quarters tomorrow, provided she allows someone else to stay with her.”  
“Who’s that going to be?” I asked, my chest tightening.  
“I’m going to let her chose between you and I. The two of us know her case the best,” she said, biting her lip.  
We both stood in silence for what felt like forever. Beverly wouldn’t make eye contact with me at all. I thought she was worried I would be angry she didn’t make the choice for Deanna, and I tried to assure otherwise.  
“Look, Beverly. I don’t want this to be weird because of…” I trailed off, not really knowing where I was going.  
“No, Will, it’s not that. It’s just, I mean, I don’t want to lecture you, but-“  
“What do you mean?”  
“Look. Deanna’s going to want to keep up with you. She’s going to want to go back to work as soon as possible. But she can’t. She really can’t. And I’m afraid that her seeing you going about your life is going to make her push herself too hard. At first I was too stunned to speak. And then I just had the irresistible urge to laugh. “You think I’m going to work while this is going on?” I laughed, “Yeah no. I’ve got the next month off duty excepting major emergencies. I’m not leaving her for a minute.” I was serious now, “I’m not going to leave her…ever again.”  
Beverly smiled. “Then there’s no reason for me to even be considered, is there?”  
“Actually, Bev, I’d like you to give her the choice. If she’s not comfortable, I don’t want her to think there isn’t another option”  
“Okay, then. I’ll talk to her in the morning, alright?” she asked, packing her work away.  
“Okay.” I nodded.  
“I’ll be close. If anything happens, just buzz.” she smiled and quietly left me to my thoughts. I shrugged and returned to Deanna. Things would change tomorrow, of that I was sure. How much so depended on her. 

Deanna:  
I woke to Beverly’s voice, mumbling about tox-reports and blood counts and oxygenation in the skin. I blinked and shifted in the bed, suddenly uncomfortable.  
“Wow, I’m a wreck, aren’t I?” I asked, trying not to scare her. She jumped anyway.  
“Oh, hello. Wow. I thought you were asleep, Deanna. Crap, okay,” she blustered around for a moment, looking in my eyes and checking my heart and god knows what else.   “What is all this for, Bev? You haven’t checked this stuff since I first came in.” Anyway, her touching my skin made it hurt worse than it already did.  
“It seems you’re fairly stable. And we put moved all of the equipment you’ll need last night. So, it looks like you’re ready. Just one last thing…” she trailed off, looking at me.  
“One last thing before what?” I asked, getting nervous.  
“Before you move back to your own quarters.” she said. I was taken aback. I’d imagined being stuck here for a couple weeks at the least. Leaving today was a huge step.  
“Well, okay, then?” I said, still a bit groggy.  
“I only require one thing.”  
“And what would that be?”  
“That someone stay with you at all times. That means sleeping there, eating there. Ultimately something like a roommate,” she said all in one breath.  
“Who?” I asked, already hoping for a very specific answer.  
“I was going to let you choose. Between myself,” she paused, steeling herself, “and Will,” she finished, exhaling. I was so relieved.  
“Absolutely nothing against you, Beverly, but Will. I want, I want Will to come,” I whispered, hoping not to let her down. To my surprise, she smiled.  
“I thought so. I honestly only put myself in there to give you an out if I was wrong. I’m glad you chose Will. And he will be too.” She was crying, tears rolling down her face, and she bit her lip, starting to turn away. I reached out, grabbing her hand.  
“Beverly, please. Please don’t do that to yourself.” She looked past me, not quite listening. And I could feel her pain. She was frustrated and scared, and she hated herself for what I was going through. It made me want to throw up. I was causing her so much pain.  
“I’m okay,” I lied, trying to sit up properly in the bed. I pushed hard, and managed to get upright. I leaned up against the armada of pillows behind me, and forced a smile. “I”m going to be fine. And that’s completely because of you. Thank you.” I was tired, now, though, and sitting up had stolen a lot of breath. I let the smile fade naturally, and focused all of my energy on breathing slowly, so as not to alarm her. But it wasn’t enough. My chest was too tight. I had to say something before I lost it.  
“Ah, Bev, would you mind,” I started, trying to sound nonchalant; but I guess there wasn’t much air left, because I gasped, and suddenly the words weren’t coming. “The air,” I whispered, gesturing to the tank. Her eyes widened, and she hurried to the tank, and turned the knob quickly. Immediately she was back at my side, waiting to see a change.  
The air came steadily, and after a few minutes, I could breathe naturally again.  
“Huh,” I breathed, smiling, “that was a bit nasty, wasn’t it? Thanks.” But she still looked worried, like any moment I was bound to burst into flames. I didn’t know what do to any more. I couldn’t pretend to be okay, because it caused me to lose control, and I couldn’t bear to watch them watch me suffer. It was this awful bitter cycle, and I couldn’t seem to find a place where it could end. We were still silent when Will came in. 

Will:  
I knew something was up as soon as I walked through the door. Thea air was too still, the room too quiet. But I didn’t push the matter.  
“Time to go then?” Deanna asked, turning to me and smiling, a little too brightly. I nodded, turning around and pulling a wheelchair into the room. Deanna frowned.  
“I don’t need that,” she said, pulling her legs over the bed, and sliding off. But before she could stand, Beverly seemed to come out of her daze, and sprang into action. Deanna’s face had gone pale, and her knees shook under the weight of her body. Beverly, as if in slow motion, slid her arm under Deanna’s knees, scooped her up, and sat her back on the bed.  
“Yes, you do,” she whispered forcefully. Deanna swallowed hard, obviously holding back tears.  
“Don’t make me sit in that horrible thing, Will. Please,” I’d never seen Deanna cry like this before.  
“Deanna, please, for me.” I kneeled beside her, brushing her face with my hand. “I don’t want to leave you here another night, but if you get worked up…” I trailed off. She got the point.  
“Alright. Fine, I’ll do it,” she resigned. “But please, don’t move me like a sack of flour. Gently, please. It hurts.” she whispered. It was the first time she’d acknowledged her pain, and it took me aback a bit. She grimaced, and shook her head slightly, as if to say, ‘Not now’. I nodded, and lifted her from the bed, not taking my eyes off of her for a second. She stiffened to my touch, and clenched at the fabric of my uniform, inhaling sharply. I’d never seen her in pain like this before. Or maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe she’d just never let me.  
When I’d eased her back into the chair, I moved to stand behind and push, but she grabbed my wrist.  
“Stay.” The word was barely audible. I nodded, ever so slightly, and glanced at Beverly. She picked up the signal immediately, and came forward to push her out of the wheelchair. I held her hand as we slowly made our way back to her room. I looked down at her, the woman I loved so very much, and the words came before I’d even decided to let them, “I’ll never let go.” 

Beverly:  
By the time we got Deanna to her quarters, and she was lying comfortably in her bed (newly converted from full to king sized, so as to accommodate her muscle spasms at night) we were all tired, not the least of which was Deanna herself.  
I hooked her back up to an IV, and a heart rate monitor, and explained how to use both to Will. He listened stoically, patiently asking questions and nodding along. The only trace of his impatience came from his eyes. Every ten or twenty seconds, he glanced at Deanna, who lay in the bed, not quite asleep, though she would like us to believe she was. When I finished, his attention snapped back to me, and he tried to smile, unsuccessfully; it just didn’t quite reach his eyes. They stayed sad and dark. But he leaned in all the same, and gripped me hard.  
“Thank you for helping her, Beverly,” he whispered into my hair. His arms were wrapped around my body, holding tight, but I could still feel the shake of his hands. I held back tears. She was still watching us. And after a moment, he broke away, side stepping me and facing the wall, trying to blink away the sadness. When he turned, the darkness in his eyes had sharpened, like the sadness had been crushed by it. But he was steady in his resolve, and fierce. I don’t know which was better. But one thing was for sure. This man was never going to give up on her.


	5. Chapter 5

Deanna:  
The first of the chemo side effects had started the night before, but it wasn’t unbearable until today. I woke to my head exploding. I fell asleep vomiting out my stomach. I breathed in poison, out death. I puked until there was nothing left, and yet somehow my stomach found a way to come up with more. And throughout it all, he was there. When I started puking, he pulled back my hair, held the bin. When I passed out from pure exertion, he stayed by me.   
I don’t know what I would’ve done without Will. He became my rock, and I his raging storm. And oh did I rage. I raged for what felt like weeks, years even. But I would pass. In the end, the storm would fizzle out, for better or for worse.   
The first day I fully remember was three days after my return. I woke, actually, a Will cursing. To be honest, I wish I’d stayed asleep.

Will:  
I won’t describe those first few days in detail. I don’t think I could if I wanted to. She was in so much pain. Constant migraines, paired with the kind of deep bone ache you associate with freezing waters. Bile and mucus piled up in her throat to the point that we needed a suction tube just to keep it from choking her. And while I stayed with her through every moment, she was the strong one. She took the role of the constant light in the darkness. She was positive and smiling, even when her pain was so great it blinded her. Even when she held food for just three minutes before vomiting, she never refused to eat. I was not so strong. When she blacked out from pain, I cried deeply into her chest. When she screamed, I cursed inwardly. And there were so many times when I wanted to yell, so scream, so cry out. She wasn’t ever fully conscious; always dazed and confused. And eventually, I succumbed to it all.   
She was sleeping fitfully, at around 3:00 AM, Earth time. And I don’t know. I was frustrated, and angry. And I lost it.  
I went crazy. I kicked at the walls, and tore down curtains. I broke glass, shattered porcelain. And by the time I’d stopped, I was kneeling in a pile of rubble, cursing out my lungs, and sobbing into my hands. I looked up, only to see Deanna, staring in horror back at me. I don’t know if I’d ever been so ashamed in my life.  
I expected her to yell, to scream, to kick me out. I expected her to gasp. But, she just blinked, and moved effortlessly over in the bed, patting the space next to her.   
“I understand,” she whispered. She didn’t bat an eye. It was like she’d seen this coming, and had long since resigned herself to its inevitability. I didn’t know how to respond. She’d found a way to astound me once more. 

Picard:  
“It’s been a couple days, how are you,” she asked me, leaning back in her chair. I couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Deanna, I’m checking up on you,” I said. “This isn’t a therapy session.” She began to laugh, but started coughing instead. Her face tightened, and she gripped the arms of the chair, obviously in pain.   
Will appeared out of no where, gently pushing her forward and patting her back, attempting to break up the poison in her lungs. It seemed to last forever. He kneeled down, and she was starting fixedly at his face, her face pale and strained. He whispered to her, a constant string of words, keeping her calm in the storm. When it had passed, he leaned into her, kissing her softly on the forehead. She closed her eyes, breathing steadily.  
“Thank you, Will,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, and leaning back again, her eyes still closed tight, like she din’t want to see the world she lived in. Will excused himself, mumbling something about helping Geordi out in Engineering. I swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. I moved to leave, assuming she needed to rest; it had seemed fairly traumatic. Just as I was standing up though, her eyes popped open.   
“You don’t need to leave, captain. I’m alright, don’t worry,” and she smiled. After she’d nearly choked on her own bile, she smiled at me, like we were talking over coffee, not over her prison of a body, holding her brilliant soul captive in sickness. And I found myself smiling as well, and before I knew it, I was kneeling in front of her, and holding her hands gently in mine, tears burning my eyes.  
“I know you are, Deanna,” I squeezed her hand, probably harder than I should have, and she winced, but I didn’t let go, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry.” I let go then, and she breathed out. We sat in silence then, words passing silently between us, like good friends can always do. We didn’t need to speak, because anything we would’ve said was already known by the other. And it wasn’t an awkward silence. We didn’t fidget or shift uncomfortably. We just sat together. I don’t really know how long it lasted: probably close to twenty minutes, when she jerked slightly, and sat up in the chair. I started, coming out of my daze, and immediately jumped up, afraid of another seizure. But she was grimacing, determined.   
“I almost forgot, Captain-“   
“Please, Deanna, call me John-Luke” she ignored me, kept talking.  
“I need,” she pushed herself forward in the chair, “to give you something.” She began to push herself out of the chair, and stood up, weak and unstable. I chose, just this once, not to protest, and brought her arm around my shoulder. She smiled gratefully, and leaned towards me. Almost immediately, she sagged into me, her legs unable to support her body, but I kept moving, allowing her to move her feet along without actually walking. When you’re so sick you can’t walk on your own, dignity is hard to preserve, but oh, it is so important.   
“The desk,” she mumbled, abandoning pretense. I took her there, and she sat in the chair. I waited patiently, pulling up my own, as she caught her breath. When she was ready, I nodded, and Deanna smiled, opening up the drawer, and reaching to the back. She pulled out a small tin box, probably used at one point to hold a child’s coloring pencils. Opening the box, she pulled out a small stack of pale blue envelopes, and set them in her lap.   
I felt the blood rush out of my face. She held them gently, like they were precious, and each was written in perfect penmanship.The top one had my name on it. And I knew exactly what these were.  
“These are very important. I imagine you have an idea of what they are,” I started to interrupt, but she held up her hand. “It’s too late, I’ve already written them. I know I’m not there yet. But by the time I’m sure, I’ll be too sick to do it myself. And,” she paused, squinting, holding back, “I had to write them by myself. I had to do something by myself.” She looked at me, as if daring me to challenge her. But I’d learned not to challenge Deanna Troi years ago.  
She held out the letters.   
And I took them.   
“Now, I have some instructions on these. Wait until I’m finished to ask questions, because, to be quite honest, I’m really tired right now, John-Luke,” she paused, and I gave a slight nod.  
“Obviously, these are for after…I’m gone. But,” she leaned over, and opened a larger drawer, pulling out a larger cardboard box, like the ones formerly used to hold shoes. “These are a bit different,” she opened the box, and gestured at the letters inside. There were five or six, but they only filled a small portion of the box. “They’re for, I don’t know how to say it. Milestones, I guess. You know, Alexander’s 18th birthday, the day Will becomes a captain. I won’t be there, and these are what I want to say. I’m going to be, ah, adding to these, but those, I need you to take,” she leaned back, and nodded. I was allowed to ask questions now. I didn’t waste a second. Despite what she said, Deanna was more than tired right now. She was exhausted, and probably in quite a lot of pain; her hands shook slightly.   
“Why me, Deanna? Why aren’t you giving these to Will?” She hesitated, biting her lip, like she’d hoped I wouldn’t ask that particular question. “He doesn’t know, does he?” I asked, the answer already clear.   
“He knew I wanted to,” she said, “But he wouldn’t allow it. I’ve had to write off and on when Beverly was staying with me while he took care of stuff around here.”   
I nodded soberly. Will wouldn’t have let her write her own death notes. He’d do nothing to acknowledge the fact that she may not live. Come to think of it, I don’t think any of us would. I was surprised I hadn’t done the same thing. I leaned forward, taking her hand in mine once more.   
“I understand, okay? I get it.” She looked at me then with such sadness, I shied away. I could almost feel the tears running down her face. Wait. No, those were my own. Squinting, I looked down at my shoes, determined not to let it show, and once again forgetting Deanna wasn’t just an empath, she was a counselor, and most importantly, she was my friend. I didn’t have many of those. I never had. I was sharp, and I didn’t let people in. Even once I had, my walls rarely came down.  
She slid off the chair, and down onto her knees in front of me, still gripping my hand. With a thud, she fell back onto her butt, unable to support herself, but she didn’t even flinch. Deanna simply crossed her legs, and looked up into my eyes.   
“I don’t care if you cry, John-Luke,” she whispered, closing her eyes, ever so slowly. “At least I know,” and now she was slumping forward slightly, her torso folding into itself, “you care.” She leaned over, and curled up on the floor, shaking hard. She’d pushed herself too far. I scooped her up off the ground, and lay her gently in the bed, pulling blankets around her, and helping her prop at a comfortable angle. She was still shaking, but her eyes slowly opened back up, and she smiled weakly.   
“Sorry about that, captain,” she chirped. “I think I’ll just,” she paused, and blinked hard, obviously trying to stay awake, “I think I’ll…” but she was too tired to keep going.  
“Just get some sleep, Deanna,” I whispered, “just sleep.” And, picking up the box, I tip-toed out of the room. Just as the doors opened, though, Deanna called out to me.  
“Wait,” she croaked. Her eyes popped open, and she struggled, but couldn’t sit up. “Wait,” she repeated, still struggling against her own weight.   
“No, don’t, Deanna. It’s alright. What is it?” I asked, trying to calm her down. She was agitated; it was making it even harder for her to speak.  
“Don’t give them-“ she coughed, and sank into the pillows, giving up. “Don’t give them to the others. Not until,” and again, she paused, trying hard to stay awake. But I understood.   
“I won’t, Deanna. They won’t know.”  
“Yes, I know you know that,” she was calming down, and the words were coming easier, “but there’s an, an extra one there, for you. I mean…” she breathed in deeply, “There are two for you in there. One is for if I get to a place where I can’t tell you what to do, at the end, if I’m not me anymore, so you know how to proceed. You know, instructions. Read that…now.” Her eyes were clear now, her exhaustion temporarily subsiding. I was slightly surprised. I’d never known someone to plan their own death in such detail. And, to be honest, it scared me. Like she knew how she was going to pass. I didn’t want to comply. I wanted to burn these letters, to drop them into a supernova and fly away at top speed. But it was what she wanted. And she deserved at least this. I owed her so much more.


	6. Chapter 6

Will:   
We got into a routine, Deanna and I. We found a pattern that worked well, kept us moving but at a pace she could handle. And there was so much to contend with. I was working again, doing bridge duty and making rounds throughout the day. Deanna had to have meds circulated through her body three times a day, an extremely painful process. In between meds, I had to help her eat, and bathe, and relieve herself. By the sixth day back, her muscles started seizing up at random intervals, so I started massaging her, trying to keep her comfortable.   
Her mobility was decreasing by the hour. When she’d first come back, Deanna was able to walk across the room with little aid. By the third day, she was leaning into me almost entirely. By the fourth, she was asking me to shift her legs to a more comfortable angle in the middle of the night. By the sixth, I was shifting her torso. She couldn’t push herself up in the bed. Her joints were so stiff, they popped as she shifted in sleep.   
Getting her up in the morning was difficult. It took about an hour to massage feeling back into her hands and feet and relax the muscles that had seized up overnight. I would straighten and bend her legs until the muscle reacted. I rolled her over, and pressed and kneaded her back, until, she could sit up in minimal agony.  
Then I would lift her from the bed, and allow her to lean on me as I led her to the bathroom. I supported her as she brushed her hair and teeth, turned my back as she relieved herself, and then lowered her gently into the bath. The water stayed low, and it was quick. Just enough to erase the cold sweats and bile from the night before. Every two days I washed her hair. She didn’t say a word, not through all of our morning jobs. Not until the seventh day.  
I reached down, gently pulling the cloth along her back where she was unable to reach. When I pulled my hand away, though, she caught it up in her own. I looked up, into her eyes, expecting to find her grimacing in pain, or in tears, but she was smiling. Smiling, but shaking hard, like tremors running through her muscles.   
“I’m so c-cold,” she gasped. I dipped my hand in the water, but it was still hot. Steam was rising from the bath. But her lips were tinted blue, and her fingers were pale. She was still smiling, though I couldn’t imagine why.   
“I n-need you to take me to the bed. Please, hurry.” Still smiling. I reached for a towel, but as I released her shoulder, she slipped into the water, barely catching herself before her head smashed into the tank. And the shaking got worse. I tossed the towel over my shoulder, and lifted her out of the bath, soaking myself. Then I wrapped her torso in the towel, and squeezed her hair into the water. I lifted her off the ground, and carried her to the bed. The smile had faded now, and her eyes became cloudy. I lay her in the bed, wrapped her in as many blankets as I could find, and slowly started rubbing my hands along her head, hands, and feet, trying to wake up the nerves.   
She went still. And I panicked.   
“Deanna! Deanna wake up. Please, please wake up.” I forgot everything Beverly had taught me to do. I shook her body, and sobbed. In a last resort, desperate move, I tilted back her head, and blew. Nothing. I fell to my knees, and lay my head on her chest, unable to make myself move. 

Deanna:  
I tried to speak, but no sound escaped my lips. My head was on fire, but I could breathe. I could feel my legs again. My hands were numb, but functional. I squeezed the sheet beneath me, but I didn’t dare yet open my eyes. What if this was it? I was terrified. If I was dead, what I saw next was going to be my eternity. It was going to be whatever followed. Slowly, I slid my eyes open.   
I was alive. But I was alone. Or so I thought. I blinked, and the room came in to focus. Will was kneeling by the bed beside me, and tears slid down his face.  
“What’s wrong?” I asked, confused out of my mind. Will lifted his head, his face as pale as the sheets on which I lay.  
“Oh my god. You’re- you’re okay. Oh my god, Deanna!” He croaked, his voice snapping.  
“What-“ I was so confused.   
“You were gone. It’s been three minutes.”  
“I was…gone? Like, actually gone?” My head was spinning so bad, all I saw was colors, and flashes of light.   
“I don’t know,” he whispered.  
“Will,” I gasped. It was happening again, and I knew I wouldn’t resurface this time. “I need Beverly. Call her now. I’m going to pass out again. Don’t freeze, just call her. I’ll be okay, but I can’t hold…on.” I was fading, I could feel it, but Will wouldn’t accept it.   
“No, De, hold on. Listen to me,” he tapped his communicator. “Beverly! Now! Hold on, Deanna, come on. He pulled me up, so I was slumped in his arms. My body was like lead, I couldn’t even hold my head straight. And oh, I was so tired. Slipping back into unconsciousness felt like such a good idea in that moment.   
“Will, I’m…sleepy. Can’t I just rest…for a moment?” I relaxed more into him, so he was fully holding my crumpling body in his arms.   
“Stop it. Don’t do that, Deanna. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine. Just…hold on. Beverly’s coming, she’ll be here in a minute. You can make it, Deanna.”  
But she was taking so long. And everything was becoming foggy, the lead in my body pulling me down to sleep. My last conscious thought, before I slipped under, was to see Will. I opened my eyes, so briefly, and stared at the man I loved.   
“De-?” He asked, his eyes glistening.  
“Hush,” I whispered, “I’m okay.” And then everything went dark.


	7. Chapter 7

Picard:  
I didn’t know a man could look so lifeless with his heart still beating.  
Will hadn’t moved. Not for three days.  
It was three days ago that she’d finally lost the battle. Deanna had fought hard. She’d stayed semiconscious until Beverly had arrived. She said (Beverly, that is) that when she’d come in, she was even still talking, mumbling at least, to Will. Telling him that it would be okay. That she wasn’t afraid. She was so sure of herself. So at peace with her death. Beverly said it felt almost wrong, what she had to do.  
She almost felt bad for saving her. 

Beverly:  
He didn’t move when I came in to check her vitals. Or when I administered her daily round of nutrients. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Not when I spoke to him, not when I gently hugged his shoulders, tense and knotted from three days in a plastic chair.  
Will was fading away.  
He held her hand, day in and day out, rubbing slow circles into her wrists without a sound. He never stopped; even when he slept, his hands remained wrapped up in hers, circling slowly around her pale skin. It was heartbreaking.  
Sometimes we would catch him humming, slowly and quietly, when he thought no one was around. He even spoke to her, sometimes. We were all waiting, I suppose. Waiting for the coma to break, for her to leave. Everyone but Will.  
It was that third day, late at night, when he finally spoke. I was finishing up, heading back to my office, where I’d managed to drag in a cot (I wasn’t leaving any more than Will was). She was, as far as I could tell, stable. And he was unchanged, still circling his thumb into her skin. I was turning to leave, when he caught my hand in his. Startled by the sudden change, I jerked away, but he held tight.  
“Beverly,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and tight. I knelt beside him, as if to avoid scaring a puppy. “Beverly she’ll wake up.” I opened my mouth, ready to explain that the chances of that were, at best, slim. Ready to comfort him. But before I could, he shook his head, cutting me off. “I’m not asking, Doctor.” His voice hardened. “I’m just telling you. She’ll wake up. And I’ll be here. I-“ his voice broke, tears lifting to his eyes. He swallowed hard, and his jaw tightened. “I promised her. I promised-“ a sob escaped him, and he turned his face away, “that I wouldn’t let go. I won’t let go.” And he turned back to her, lightly brushing away a stray hair from her face. I left quietly. This wasn’t the time.

Picard:  
Her letter told me to deliver them, when she was dying. I mean, really dying. When she wasn’t going to come back. And it took two days, but I realized, by the third, that this was what she meant. What I didn’t realize, was how hard it would be. I didn’t have to read them all, I suppose. But I watched each of them as they did. 

Data read his in complete silence, his face inscrutable to anyone that didn’t know him. What people don’t realize, is that Data has feelings. Don’t get me wrong, he has no real emotions, but he does feel. He knows what it is to be happy and sad and angry. And as he read Deanna’s letter, it was obvious he was hurt. 

Data-  
Before I came to The Enterprise, I’d never even encountered an android,  
much less one of your ability. So you can bet I was surprised when I found you  
to not only look like a human, but act like one as well.  
I know it has been your dream for as long as you’ve lived to achieve  
humanity. Let me tell you something, Data. I have never met anyone more  
human than you. You’re brilliant, and brave, and selfless. You care for your  
friends dearly, and you stand up against the enemy. You understand right  
from wrong, and you own those morals like any good man would. You are more  
human than many, Data. You may never cry or be able to taste the creaminess  
of chocolate as it melts in your mouth, and you’ll never truly age, but you are  
truly as human as it comes. And I am so honored to have been a part of that  
journey. 

-Deanna

Data looked up slowly from the page, his head inclined and his expression thoughtful.  
“If I could cry…” he thought again for a moment, “I would be right now.”

Worf was similar. His letter was short and to the point, a concession on Deanna’s part, who understood Worf better that he did himself. It was polite and kind, and while he gave no hint to his feelings, I know he was touched by her words. He did not allow me to see the letter, but held it directly against his leg, gave a slow nod, and turned away, walking determinedly down the hall. 

Geordi wouldn’t read his in front of me. But he did ask me to look it over first. I still don’t know why, really. Maybe he was afraid of what she would say to him. Geordi and Deanna were close, though you wouldn’t have known it. They spoke only alone, really. He visited her weekly, and they talked for hours at a time, but in public you could barely tell they were even friends. The letter made it clear why.

Geordi,  
I know you probably won’t want to read this. And I understand, really. But  
I had to say something. So I’ll keep it short. You’ve lost so much, Geordi, and  
I hate that I have to add to that. But I think you know that just like your parents,  
and you wife, I love you dearly. I don’t want to stack onto all of that pain. It kills  
me that I’m just another friend to leave you. But you’re not alone, Geordi. And if  
you need someone, I know anyone here would be willing to help. Don’t go back  
to where you were, Geordi. If you were to do anything to make me unhappy, it would  
be that. I love you like a brother. You could never let me down, honestly. Don’t ever  
think you could. Have a beautiful life, Geordi. And do me a favor. Never give up on yourself.  
Ever. 

-Deanna

I looked up from the letter, and without a second thought, clasped him firmly by the shoulder. “You did good things for her, Geordi, that much is clear. Don’t be afraid, it’s beautiful.” He smiled sadly at me and took the letter.  
“Thanks.”

Beverly:  
I found it on my desk when I woke up the following morning. I hadn’t slept well, barely at all, really, until the last few hours. He must have placed it there around three or four AM. I suppose Jean-Luc wasn’t sleeping either. God, we were a wreck.  
The envelope was pale blue and smooth, with my name written perfectly across the middle in handwriting so light it could only be Deanna’s. I knew instantly what it was. I’d see her writing for weeks before she fell into the coma, and I imagined what it was she was doing, despite her attempts to hide them from me. And all I could think was that I didn’t want to experience her final words to me this way. 

Beverly,  
You’re sitting next to me while I write this, reading. I find that a little ironic,  
don’t you? And I’m sure you know what I’m doing, though I do hope you won’t  
read this too early. I don’t want to see your response. It would be too painful. But  
here goes nothing, I suppose.  
Nine years ago, I came to the Enterprise, a young woman suddenly  
expected to counsel a ship of over 2,000 people. I was terrified. I was virtually  
alone. And the only person I knew on the ship was my ex boyfriend. Needless to  
say, it was an uncomfortable situation. But you changed that. I remember those  
first few weeks. You were among the first to reach out to me, to ask about my life,  
my interests, and not just what emotion I could feel from you. I will always be  
grateful for that.  
And from there, we only became closer. You are my best friend,  
Beverly, my rock. You’ve made my life what it is today, and I am eternally in your  
debt for that.  
I’m sorry I’ve done this to you, Bev. You already lost your husband, and  
your son’s gone off for who knows how long, and I’m dying and I am so sorry. I  
never wanted to do something like this to you. But please, don’t blame yourself  
alright? None of this is your fault.You’re amazing and the only reason I’m still  
alive. I never wanted to hurt you like this.  
Before I’m gone, I’d like to give you one more thing. A suggestion, I  
suppose, just one last annoying little observation from the Betazoid. 

I see the way you look at him. I feel the way your heart leaps. I know. So,  
Beverly, go for it. Because, between you and me…He feels the same way. 

-Deanna

All I could do was sink back onto the bed, and cry.


End file.
